This conference is struggling with the same issue my own denomination, the ELCA dealt with in 2009: homosexuality in the church. At the time of my writing, the UMC looks like it will stick with the traditional, orthodox Christian understanding of sexuality and not allow non-celibate homosexuals to become ministers. A vote was taken where this traditional stance will go before the voting assembly while other options were voted down. This does not mean that the other possibilities are gone--they can still come forward in a minority report, but they may not be accepted into the polity of the church.
It was interesting to see my Facebook feed's reaction to the news. First off, not too many folks on my feed are even aware of this conference--that must be duly noted. But secondly, those who are aware have had some eye catching responses. Consider the following:
- I have a heavy, heavy heart for the UMC right now. To all my UMC LGBTQIA siblings, I see you/we see you; to UMC clergy allies, the same.
- I am most concerned for my beloved LGBTQIA+ siblings who are so personally hurt by the church, and today many of you are having old scars re-opened. I am so, so sorry. You are not alone in this. I encourage you to find a moment of connection with God, in music, in the promises of scripture, a moment outside to breathe deeply, or something else that connects your spirit with God's spirit. This is and will be the source of healing for all of us.-- I do not want to diminish the reality of this pain or the need for change in this broken system. I do want to point to the God who already goes beyond it.
- I am so sorry for the moments in which church leaders limit God’s vision for the Christian movement. I’m left with deep sadness because of the broken relationships that reinforce a smaller view of who is welcome at the leadership table. I’m praying for my LGBTQI siblings in the United Methodist church. God’s love is always bigger than any of us can imagine.
What I find most interesting in the comments is a feeling of hurt and pain. There is a sense of "the church has hurt these folks, and we need to take away the hurt." This tends to be a thread running through the culture of the U.S.--we don't like pain.
And there is a tendency in some folks to see someone in pain and rush to alleviate that pain. My child is failing a course, so I will go talk to the teacher; I will spend hours with my child making them do homework; I will do whatever it takes so my child will not experience having a failing grade. If my child is benched while playing sports, I will call up the coach and argue as to why my child deserves to play and needs to be spared the pain of sitting on the bench. If my child is overweight and unhealthy, I will reinforce that he/she is beautiful and allow him/her to eat whatever he/she wants. If my child is being bullied, I will remove him/her from the situation or work with others to make the bullying stop so my child doesn't have to experience the pain. This doesn't have to just be about children--we carry these tendencies into our adulthood; sometimes we even look for someone or a group to help out because they are in pain. We need to alleviate it!!!
But is this always wise? What lessons are we teaching?
Over the past couple of years, I have gained a bit too much weight. Because of a stressful situation in my former congregation and going through conflict, I stopped exercising, and I ate and drank in excess things I should have limited. Last week, I started doing a bit of exercising after reading an article about doing 40 push ups a day (I'll spare you the details). I think you are supposed to do all 40 push ups at once, but I'm not there, so I spread those 40 push ups out over the entire day. And, it hurts. Really. It hurts. My back hurts. My shoulders hurt. My core hurts. There is pain, and it would be nice to avoid it. It would be nice to take away the source of my pain, but if I do that, then I don't move towards health.
In fact, I think that when it comes to life, to be healthy, we must experience pain. We must experience the pain of hunger to lose excess weight. We must experience the pain of exercise to stay in shape. We must exercise the pain of delayed gratification in order to see our bodies transformed into a healthier state.
And I think this holds true of our mental and spiritual state as well. I have two bi-racial daughters, and they have experienced bullying because of their skin color. Have I rushed to make other kids stop? Have I removed them from their situation? No. I've told them to stand up for themselves. I've told them to be tough and stand up to the comments. Why? I can't stop people from saying things, but I can help them cope and deal with mean people. The more they stand up to bullying, the stronger they will become. Likewise with my kids' grades. Sometimes, they struggle with work, but I'm not going to rescue them. They will have to figure it out on their own and suffer the consequences for their actions. I had a daughter fail a class once. She suffered the consequences, decided she didn't like those consequences and hasn't fails a class since.
When it comes to spirituality, we become stronger when we are confronted with our sin. And that causes us pain. God, it causes pain. It is one of the most unpleasant things that we have to do in our relationship with God, because our sin infects our very being, our very core, our very identity. And it is unpleasant to hear that the remedy is death--death to our self; death to our identity; death to our wants and our desires. It's painful. And I'm not talking theoretical. I'm talking as one who has been through it. When God revealed the depths of my sinfulness, it rocked me to the core. I could have avoided it. I could have sought out those who made me feel affirmed and loved. I could have walked away from the teaching that was being presented to me. I could have rejected the pain and gone on with my life--perfectly satisfied with who I was. But, instead, I accepted the pain. I accepted the rebuke. I accepted the confrontation of my sinfulness.
And then what Christ did on the cross became real. That's a difficult statement to type as someone who was raised a Christian all his life. I've never known a time when I didn't understand I was a child of God. I've never known a time when I didn't realize that Jesus died for my sins. I've never known a time when I didn't believe in God. But even though I knew all of these things in an intellectual kind of way, I never knew them down into the depths of my soul. I never knew them at a radical, life-changing level. I had to go through the pain to find the grace.
Too often, in our culture, we aren't willing to do that. Too often, we're willing to walk away. Go start our own churches. Find a different preacher who will tell us what we like. Move to a new congregation. Associate with those who are just like us and believe exactly like we do. Maybe there is a time and a place for that. Constant pain isn't good. It must be tempered with grace and mercy. If you are only getting acceptance without challenge, that isn't good. If you are only getting challenge without acceptance, that isn't good either. Grace brings those two things together.
But you've got to be willing to accept the pain. Just like Jesus was willing to accept the cross.
